I Met A Human Called Gordon
by Dabbled-at-Euchre
Summary: An alien documents a "Close Encounter" she had with the Orville's Helmsman. Shortly after 2x11 "Lasting Impressions." One-Shot.


Personal Log of Cargo Officer Visha Taal, Starship LU LU WAH, Critean Alliance.

Entry dated for Fluday plus eight, 73rd year of the Toplin.

[Translated from Critean] It seems I am taking a more flexible position then I thought about my resolution to have no further intimate contact with non-Criteans. Still, it started harmlessly enough.

Our host planet had a traveler's dinner yesterday. Representatives from all starships in Port attended.

The Planetary Union had an exploration vessel in port, the Orville. Their Captain attended with his First Officer, Second Officer, Chief of Security, Chief Engineer and Helmsman. He was polite to all of them, and spoke most often with his First Officer, but there seemed an undercurrent between him and the Helmsman that sparked my interest. Our hosts were serving Ranti, a drink made from distilled Maza berries that grow on their planet. The Captain and the Helmsman joked about which flavoring beverages should be mixed with it. The Captain favored "Nest Le Qwick." The Helmsman favored "Fruit Punch." (My translator app said that a punch was a blow struck by the hand with the fingers in a certain configuration, but that couldn't be right, so I ignored it.)

I lurked in the background, checking my communications device until he was alone. Then I went over, and we greeted each other. I introduced myself, then he introduced himself (Lieutenant Gordon Malli.)

So, I repeated "Lieutenant Gordon Malli."

He said "No, Gordon Malli." Only he pronounced it all different.

I said "I'm sorry my species cannot make that sound. That letter combination doesn't even appear anywhere in our written language."

"Ok. Call me Gordon."

We exchanged social pleasantries. Then I took my shot.

"I noticed you and your captain seemed close. As if he values you for you. But at the same time there's the stratified levels of command. Did that take you long to achieve?"

"A while. We've known each other since Union Point."

"And yet your Captain overcomes the distance."

For a moment I saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes. Then he was perfectly charming. "Oh, you're interested in Ed. My Captain. He likes gals, I'm sure that includes tall orange ones with blue spots and cute antenna. Come on, I can introduce you."

"No, I'm interested in talking to you." He smiled. I continued. "Carbula and I were in the same training class. The same squad even. I thought we were close. Our species dreams much as yours does, and sometimes in my dreams we were traveling the stars together."

He nodded, smiling. As if it was near enough to his own experience.

I went on "I could have remained on the commander career track. But my fleet ships certain live plant cargos that command expensive sale prices but require very delicate care in transit. I was moved to the field of caring for those cargos. And am now unlikely to command my own ship."

He nodded understandingly.

I continued, "The information I am sniffing for is this. Now that Carbula made Captain she seems awkward around me. I have made my peace with not being on the command-track, yet she seems unsure how to treat me, while I miss what we had."

He asked, "She made Captain recently?"

When I nodded, he continued "She's probably still trying to find herself as a Captain. It may take a long while. Just keep acting like an old friend while still treating her as Captain. If she can fit it in her Captain's chair, I'm sure she'll still be happy to have you as a pal."

"Thanks."

He chose to open up deeper, a conversational gambit his people, like mine, sometimes practice. "It's good to know that you could have been Captain someday if not for that. In my fleet, and probably in yours, hot pilots are valuable, and I'm one of the hottest."

I wondered what temperature had to do with pilotage, then returned to trying to find his meanings from context, as he continued.

"But otherwise, I am not that good an officer. I used to try hard, but my other abilities aren't that sharp. Sometimes I still try hard, but other times I don't even bother. Often, I just pull practical jokes, like when our Moclan second officer was convinced to grow a moustache."

"Oh. Do you have any visual datafiles of that?"

He showed me one.

I said, "The way it's so perfectly the same on both sides accents the weirdness and just makes it funnier."

He looked at the visual datafile again and smiled.

I shared, "I do practical jokes too. For years I've been specializing in the eighth form of practical humor."

"What's that?"

"It involves scents."

"That's a good one. I did one right before I was posted to the Orville involving releasing scents of certain" he paused to think then explained "unpleasant gasses our species makes in the guts, especially after eating certain foods. It was quite funny, because I made it seem like Commander Cragg was responsible."

"Actually the 8th form of practical humor involves pleasant fragrances."

He thought carefully and asked, "What's so funny about that?"

"The fragrances are used quite subtly, and the scent is released inexplicably. Used sparingly, the 8th form is bizarrely effective while at the same time quite nice."

We began to compare pranks we'd committed. Alien races we'd encountered. Then he circled back to his friendship with the Captain he referred to simply as "Ed." "So, Ed, me and John were playing in the simulator. We were doing law enforcers in a lower-technology era, riding atop animals. The program called for a showdown. A sort of ritualized combat with gunpowder weapons. However, I'd been fooling around with the program and had Vasquez, the fugitive, challenge us to a dancing competition instead." He paused and asked, "Does that translate?"

"My culture has dances, although they are large group collaborations not win/lose situations. How did Ed take it?"

"Oh, he got called away. But he told me to fix it while he was gone."

"Not everyone appreciates surprises."

He nodded, wistfully. Perhaps pondering what the Dance Competition would have been like.

I glanced at our hosts' clock and saw that we'd spoken for seven Zels. And then I looked back at him and realized his pale skin was growing on me and I was curious to see how his protective facial covering, the "beard," could protect him from me in close quarters. Space is for meeting aliens and finding common interests. I smiled deeper and as he smiled back, I figured what the Zarat.

I mentioned "Our diplomatic notes say that many of you humans can be most… affectionate."

"You Criteans have the same reputation. Especially in stories that get passed around. Usually stories that can't be fact-checked but are fun to hear."

"My ship leaves tomorrow, and we'll probably never see each other again."

He nodded somberly.

I continued "So there is only tonight. I haven't had anyone to be affectionate with recently. Have you?"

He seemed embarrassed.

So, I said "If it's difficult you can just tell me if you're under exclusive contract or not?"

"I'm not with anyone now. I was recently, but I'm not sure if it counts."

"You're not sure if you were affectionate?"

"No, it's just that she wasn't quite real."

"Aha. Although most other cultures don't think that way, my people have recognized the therapeutic value of having imaginary friends when you need them. Tell me, was she real to you?"

"So real."

"Then she counts."

We slipped out. The only one from either of our ships to notice us was their Chief Engineer who gave his shipmate an approving smile.

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"Your skin has an interesting feel. So papery."

I offered him an out, "We can stop if that's a problem for you."

"I didn't say it was a PROBLEM."

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"You kiss okay for a male with only one tongue."

"Thanks."

We kissed again. Then he reported "And even for a female with two tongues you kiss excellently."

"Thanks"

Somehow, he thought to ask, "How did your species evolve with two tongues anyway?"

"The longer one is for catching flying bugs at up to this distance." I extended it to show my range. "The shorter one is more… sensitive to different tastes. It prevents eating spoiled food that disturbs the stomach."

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"That's not the shape I'm used to."

"Sorry" he said.

"Well, you could try- "

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When my eye sockets returned to the usual position, I saw him looking concerned. As if women of his species don't have this defense to prevent predators sneaking up during the moments of greatest intimacy. So, I smiled at him and said, "I see you ARE a hot pilot."

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Epilogue-Three days later.

On the Orville's Bridge. The first shift (with the command staff) was on duty. Since Ed and Kelly were in a side room communicating with an Admiral about sensitive topics, Bortus sat in the Command Chair. And did command things until suddenly he began to sniff loudly. "What is that Smell? Does it indicate a malfunction?"

Everyone began to sniff, including Gordon. He faced straight ahead and kept quiet.

Doctor Claire Finn, who happened to be on the bridge said, "It seems… flowery."

Isaac reported "Having accessed my olfactory database the scent appears to be a mixture of several Terran flowers, particularly tulips and white roses. Do you wish me to investigate deeper."

Bortus, said "No, prepare the sensor array. Union Science Command wants that White Dwarf Star scanned to test Kettlering's hypothesis."

The Orville sailed on, with the bridge crew making occasional sniffs.

Ed and Kelly returned to the Bridge. Bortus, reported "We are approaching the star in question. A strange smell seems to be on the bridge."

Ed and Kelly sniffed. Ed said, "Quite flower like."

Kelly nodded.

A minute later she came over to the helmsman's station. "So, Gordon I noticed you were talking to one of the Critean officers at the reception. Practicing your diplomacy?"

Gordon nodded and replied, "Those receptions can make for really boring parties if you have no one to share them with."

Kelly smiled at Gordon "Their Captain told me and Ed that their culture has classified 12 different forms of practical jokes. One of her officers uses the 8th form on her shipmates."

"I hope that's not too aggravating."

She gave Gordon a knowing smile "No, it's quite tolerable."

A/N

The Shootout/Dance Competition was from episode 1x3 "About a Girl."


End file.
